Ice Age
by rgm0005
Summary: By unleashing forces he couldn't comprehend or control, he defeated the unbeatable and slew the immortal. It was the only way and he didn't regret it. But to all things, there is a price. He thought this one would be his death, but instead he found himself falling down the rabbit hole. It's said that time changes all things. Does that include heroes, as well?


Wrote this for my friend Surarrin and it sort of grew from there. In case it needs to be said, I don't own Harry Potter or the Dresden Files.

**Ice Age**

**Prologue**

So it comes down to this, I thought, staring into the darkness of the Veil.

I glided up the steps, musing over the whispers coming from it, loud enough for me to notice but not enough to understand anything that was being said. It made me wonder about death; what it would be like and if it'd hurt and just what it all _meant_. Perhaps it was a bit late to start now, when my own was so swiftly approaching—but then, I suppose it wasn't unusual for it to fill one's thoughts in such circumstances.

A part of me craved answers, feared the unknown that I'd soon be facing. But the rest of me was…accepting. I'd known this was coming for a long time, had chosen this path myself, to face my own death on my terms and greet it for what I believed in—for who I believed in. I was…not happy, but ready. It was just the next great adventure, Dumbledore had said.

I exhaled slowly through my nose and turned away from the Veil, taking a seat on the steps leading up to it and facing the door to the Chamber, hands on my knees.

"They'll be here soon," Hermione said, nervously checking the spells they'd laid around the chamber for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was an amazing piece of magic, something only possible with what seemed like endless days of careful effort—and the fact that we held most of the Unspeakables under the sway of the Imperius. The rest, well, they'd been on our side to begin with.

I would have liked to have seen the look on Voldemort's face when he'd realized that in all that time he'd been searching tirelessly for us, we'd been hiding right under his nose. How long _had_ it been, actually? The downside of using Time Turners so much and never going outside—the days just seemed to blend together. Or had any time passed at all? For all I knew, it was still the same day we'd first entered.

It didn't really matter. As long as we were prepared in here and our allies were ready outside, things like what day it was didn't matter—whatever the calendar said, it was the End.

There were just a few things left to do and then it'd all be over.

"You ready, mate?" Ron said, hiding his apprehension well. He was afraid, as was only logical given the circumstances—but he was also being brave. He stood here beside me, knowing what it meant.

"Born ready," I said, smiling at the two. Ron and Hermione had been with me through it all and had stuck with me all the way to the end—that is, right here. We'd had our ups and downs, our fights, had even stormed away from each other more than a few times, but it didn't matter because we were best friends. We'd endured the hard times together, fought together, and had shared both happiness and pain. I would have taken the Killing Curse for either of them in a heartbeat and died gladly, knowing I'd kept them alive.

Except…

"Can you come here for a minute? Both of you?" I said, and though they lifted their eyebrows and exchanged a glance, they approached, stopping a step below me. "You know I love you guys, right?"

"Oh, Merlin, Harry," Ron suddenly sighed. "Now's a hell of a time to start feeling sentimental. They'll be here any minute."

Hermione punched him in the shoulder, but I was pretty sure Ron ate her weight in food every day and if he so much as twitched I didn't notice.

"What he _means_ to say, is we love you too," Hermione said, crouching on the steps. "This is really it, huh, Harry?"

Ron scoffed.

"I don't see what the big deal is," He said. "We know from Harry's stone that there's _something_ waiting for us and whatever it is, we'll face it together. So it's no problem, right?"

I laughed.

"You're absolutely right, Ron. There's nothing to be afraid of," I said, putting one hand on Hermione's head and the other on Ron's shoe. "See you on the other side?"

As I began that last sentence, I pulled my hands away—and as I finished, they vanished, pulled away by the coins I'd turned into portkeys and placed on them.

I closed my eyes for a moment, simultaneously happy and sad to see them go. I could die for them, but couldn't let them die for me. Not when I could do this alone.

And now, I _was_ alone. They wouldn't make it back in time—and even if they did, I could feel the Ministry trembling as the defensive measures kicked into place, preventing Apparition or Portkeys in or out. The Order would be cutting off other means of escape and soon the Ministry would be completely severed from the outside.

Good. I'd timed it right. It wasn't hard when you could cheat time, but I was glad it had worked nonetheless—I'd half suspected they might have caught on amidst the temporal mess we'd made.

The people upstairs were trying to lock me in here with them, but little did they know that I had locked them in with me.

I took a deep breath, smacked my cheeks, and opened my eyes again. I could hear the spells we'd laid on the lift in the distance, telling me which floor it was on and how swiftly my end was approaching. A part of me itched to use a time turner, delay this just a little longer—but I held off the urge. I'd had more time than I should have—more than I'd needed, really. I couldn't and wouldn't run from this any longer.

I reached into my pocket, fingers brushing over the stone as I turned it. It was only recently I'd acquired the Hallow…for whatever recently meant, given what I'd been doing. But in a way I was glad. I'd avoided using it more then I'd needed, restricting myself to using it to prepare for this except once on that first day I'd had it—and now.

All at once, they appeared. My parents, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, Tonks, several of the Weasleys, more. My friends and allies—the lost. I didn't say anything and neither did they; everything I'd needed to tell them, I already had, and vice versa. That wasn't what I summoned them for now, either—I didn't need assurances or kind words or anything of the sort. I _was_ ready. So instead, I nodded once, a lump in my throat.

It was a goodbye.

It was a hello.

They vanished but I knew they were still watching over me.

I drew my wand as the lift reached the bottom floor, holding it loosely in my hand, elbow on my knee as I lounged on the steps. I heard the lift start to rise again, but it didn't matter—he'd have gone down first, for something like this.

A minute later, the door opened and I faced my destiny.

"Good evening, Tom," I said.

The Dark Lord Voldemort stepped into the room, walking towards me with an odd grace that didn't match his appearance. His red eyes swept the room, taking everything in—and after realizing I truly was alone, settled back upon me. Behind him, others entered—Death Eaters, not even bothering with the masks and cloaks any more. I knew most of them—the Inner Circle and a few others that had reputations. Everyone important.

Good.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort said, finally. "Come to face me at last?"

I'd had a lot of time to think about this moment—about how I wanted it to go down. I'd considered a speech—had even tried writing a few on the side—detailing all of his crimes. But…we both already knew about them, so there wasn't really any point, and I wasn't very good at it besides. I'd considered saying something witty, bantering like in the climax of a movie, though I wasn't particularly good at that, either. But it seemed like I should say _something_, considering everything that had happened, everything he'd done. But I guess the more I'd thought about it, the more I couldn't help but think—if I had him here, had this chance, then what I would want to do was this.

I activated the trap we'd set without another word.

That first moment was fairly anticlimactic. It was the sum of all the work we'd put into this, countless spells set up to activate at exactly the right moment, unravelling thousands of years of protections, triggering key points in the right order—it wasn't _difficult_ spell work, but it was detailed, exact, flawless, and enormously complex…and all of it happened, as we designed it to, without the slightest bit of light or noise.

Then the Department of Mysteries started coming undone.

Voldemort's eyes widened as the secrets held within the bowels of the Ministry were let loose, his wide eyes meeting my own in that brief moment. I smiled grimly as I felt him touch my mind, but I didn't fight him. I let him in, let him see what he was facing.

_I can't beat you Tom,_ I thought, knowing he could probably hear. _You know that as well as I do. You have decades of experience on me—and even if you didn't, even if we were the same age, you would still probably be better than me. So I'll tell you what you wanted to hear. You're stronger than I am. You know more spells, have more experience, understand magic better than I do. If we fought, you'd win on a good day or a bad day or any day in-between. I can't defeat you like that, Tom—I can't fight you and I especially can't fight you and a hundred of your friends. _

_But I can beat you like this and I will. So die._

The Chamber that was always kept locked was ironically the first to open and the power the Dark Lord knew not came rushing out. It was light and heat and a million sensations—the light in a woman's eyes, rain on skin, a hand in my own, and more pleasant things besides. All the joys of love.

And all the terrors of it, too. All the sacrifices and pains. That light washed over us and flayed our skin, charred away our flesh, crushed our bones, and obliterated us, writing on our flesh the agonies and tragedies committed in the name of love. I think I may have died. I think I may have wanted to.

Then we were standing where we had been before, the Time Room's destruction having rewound things—as expected. The final failsafe of the Department of Mysteries—anything big enough to destroy anything dangerous would unleash the forces of time, trapping the destruction within a loop until something could be done about it. It was the last defense and the hardest to deal with—the one they'd worked on for so long. The spells they'd laid continued to activate, in careful order, the spells triggering even through the reversal of time. It was a complicated piece of work, only possible thanks to the research done in the Department of Mysteries; spells that did not activate merely _on_ time, but _through_ time, responding to changes.

The Space Chamber collapsed and suddenly they were floating in air, distance and volume shifting, cast askew. This time, Voldemort reacted, raising his wand. I saw him try to apparate, try to escape—try and fail. The Locked Room opened and we died again. Then we lived, back in our original positions—standing on the ground or, in my case, seated.

This was it. It was almost time, now—three loops, we'd been sure, and then the end. Deal with the safety measure in the Time Room by opening the Locked Chamber. In the opening provided by the loop, set off the Space Chamber, the spells within setting off alarms, activating the emergency signals in the Time Room again—but it was already responding by looping the Locked Chamber. Stretched it its limit, it just need one last push, here on the third loop.

This time, Voldemort didn't try to run. With eyes wide with hate and fear, with the knowledge that all his attempts to escape death were meaningless now, he faced me. His Horcruxes were gone, but for his snake upstairs that would fall with the rest of the Ministry—and for me. This was it and we both knew it.

His expression twisted into something even uglier than normal, trying to convey an emotion I doubted even he understood, and with a wordless scream, green light leapt from his wand even as red leapt from my own on reflex. Time slowed, literally, as the Time Room tried to compensate for what was happening and began to falter under the combined assault. I watched as our spells burnt through the air like I was watching a candle melt. Behind me, working through the slowed time we'd predicted, the Veil unraveled at the seams, the archway crumbling, until all that was left was a two-dimensional door in space. It lingered for a minute and then shattered like a pane of glass just as the Space Room fell again and we started to rise from the ground.

Suddenly, there was a force against me—a terrible suction that I felt not just on my skin but down to the roots of my being, like someone had sunk a hook through me and was trying to pull me back into the hole in space that had been left by the Veil. The safety measures, stretched to their limits, began to fail erratically, patches of space suddenly resuming normal speed around me, stone shattering and being sucked into the hole I'd made in the bowels of the Ministry. The ceiling began to bend and sink as the force tore the room apart and reached for the floors above.

The Ministry began to collapse in a storm of motion, papers and pictures and desks and people swirling around us in a storm. I heard screams of terror and pain and heard them fall abruptly silent as they passed over the edge, but I couldn't so much as turn my head to look at them. They were dead, though, Sirius had proved that—the innocent and the guilty alike, dead at my hand for the chance to stop this. Sometimes, people and objects were trapped in patches of slowed or looping time, but it was only a delaying measure, would only buy them a few more minutes until they failed.

Until mine failed.

But really…it was oddly beautiful, in a frightening way. The lights glittered stunningly in the places where time was slowed, sparkling across glass and stone. From within my patch of slowed time, everything was happening in fast-forward, but it was like being in a tornado of light and sound and motion. Terrifying and exhilarating.

Three floors of the Ministry collapsed and were devoured and then time resumed its normal speed. As the magic of the Veil unraveled the time around me a moment before unleashing Voldement, I was suddenly falling backward absurdly fast—but it didn't keep the Killing Curse from sticking me. I felt the magic wash over and through me, but it didn't really matter when I was a few feet from Death's literal door anyway.

Odd that I could still see, though. I saw that my curse had hit Voldemort in turn, ripping the Elder Wand from his hands and sending it careening towards me. I saw the Locked Room break again, light spilling out and over and through us even as the Time Room finally gave out completely. The rush of light and force and heat swept by us in a storm, carrying the broken remains of the Time Room and the rest of the Department.

I felt the cold hand of Death dragging me back into the dark, the sands of Time upon my skin, the weightless vastness of Space, a cascade of emotion and thought, and half a dozen things that were inexplicable even with magic—but more than any of them, I felt what Dumbledore had described as a force that was at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than the forces of nature.

And then I felt the Elder Wand touch my hand.

**XxXXxX**


End file.
